


Consulting Mother

by ladymac111



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Femslash February, Fluff, Genderswap, John is named Jane, Pregnancy, Sexual Content, Surrogacy, kind-of relationship anyway, the sex and the birth are both borderline explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 22:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymac111/pseuds/ladymac111
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and his wife are unable to have a child the traditional way.  Luckily, there's someone in the family who is a consultant, and would <i>love</i> to have Mycroft owe her an enormous favour.</p><p>Genderswap of both Sherlock and John (now Jane).</p><p>TW in case you have a childbirth phobia or squick -- it's borderline explicit in chapter 4.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock is basically the same as in "The Only One in the World." The only major difference is that since they're both women, people didn't really assume that they're a couple until they actually were. And even then, they're only a kinda-sorta couple -- Jane isn't really sure where they stand, and Sherlock is as emotionally stunted as ever and really doesn't want to dwell on it.
> 
> Everything I know about pregnancy and birth, I learned from the Internet. Well, not _everything_ , but almost everything.

February

 

Sherlock was acting strange.

Well, she _always_ acted strange. But over the past couple of weeks, she hadn't seemed quite herself, and Jane was starting to get suspicious. She waited for the cases to come to her, and in between spent long hours lying on the couch or torturing her violin in the way that meant she was thinking very hard about something. Obviously not work, though Jane couldn't fathom what it might be.

Jane should have known something was up when Sherlock saw her off to the surgery that morning. She was actually cheerful, and gave her a kiss at the top of the steps. To be fair, that distracted her enough that she didn't worry about Sherlock's abrupt change of mood.

When she returned that afternoon, the detective was lying on the couch in her pyjamas with a heating pad on her lower abdomen.

“What happened to you? Got in a fight?”

Sherlock didn't look up from her book, but Jane could read her well enough to tell she wasn't paying attention to it. “Something like that.”

The silence stretched before Jane prodded. “So?”

She finally looked up. “I got my IUD yanked.”

That was absolutely the last thing Jane was expecting to hear. “You … why? I thought menstruation was inconvenient and irrelevant.”

Sherlock sighed. “Contraceptives, by design, limit one's ability to become pregnant.”

Jane suddenly felt very wobbly, and crashed ungracefully onto the couch at Sherlock's feet. “Are you saying you want to have a baby?”

“Oh, no, not me. Mycroft and Nadia want to have a baby.”

Jane considered for a long moment, but couldn't make the statement make sense. “You're going to have to explain that logic to me.”

Sherlock set the book on her chest with a sigh. “My brother and his wife have been trying to have a child for several years, and they've determined that Nadia is unable to carry a pregnancy to term. So they asked me to be a surrogate and I accepted.”

Jane stared at her. “Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?”

“I've considered it very thoroughly,” she said defensively. “I'm young and healthy enough to bear a child, and in return Mycroft will owe me anything I ask for.”

Jane shook her head. “It doesn't make any sense. You _hate_ Mycroft.”

“I don't expect you to understand.”

“But I _want_ to understand, Sherlock. I want to know why you're doing this. And I want to know why you made this decision without talking to me about it.”

Sherlock glared at her. “I wasn't aware I needed your permission to make decisions about my own body.”

“God, no, it's not that.” She breathed deeply, trying to organize her thoughts. “It's just … this is a _huge_ decision, and it affects my life as well as yours. When you're pregnant, you won't be able to work like you do.”

“It's only temporary.”

“Yeah, fine, but did you even think of me? We have a fucked up relationship, but we are in a relationship of some kind. I don't need to have any say in what you do, but I love you and I at least want to know. Do you understand that?”

Sherlock held her gaze for a long moment, then picked up her book and hid behind it. “I don't expect you to understand.”

They didn't speak to one another for the rest of the evening. Sherlock stayed on the couch, and Jane made herself dinner and didn't offer Sherlock any. When Jane decided she was ready for bed, she collected the things that she needed from the bedroom and took them upstairs, where her own (cold, lonely, long-abandoned) bed was waiting for her.

 

Jane woke in the middle of the night to a knock on the door, which she had left open. She rolled over and saw Sherlock in the near darkness, hesitating at the threshold. “Hello.”

“I can't sleep,” Sherlock whispered.

“What?” Her voice was rough with sleep.

“Without you. I can't sleep. The bed's too big and empty and cold.”

Jane's heart ached. She reached out a hand, and Sherlock tumbled towards her as if a spell had been broken. They collided, body to body, and she clung to Jane with her long arms and legs.

Jane held on tight, and pressed kisses into her hair for a while until she lifted her face to bring their lips together. “I'm sorry I didn't talk to you.”

“It's all right.”

She crawled under the covers. “You're right. It does affect you, and I should have been considerate of that.”

Jane nuzzled her gently. “It's fine, Sherlock. It's your decision, and I'll support you in it, even if I don't understand it.”

Sherlock sighed, and let Jane hold her as they fell asleep.


	2. The Beginning

Early June  
Week 5

 

All three heads turned as Sherlock emerged from the bathroom and set the pregnancy test on the kitchen table. “We have to wait five minutes. Did you make me any toast?”

Jane slid the plate across the table to her. “You're not nervous?”

“Should I be?” She looked at Mycroft and Nadia, who hadn't touched the tea Jane made them. “It either took or it didn't, in which case we'll have another go.”

“How can you be so detached?” Nadia demanded. “A baby could be growing inside you right now!”

Sherlock shrugged and took another bite of her breakfast. “It's just an embryo. They fail to implant all the time.” She looked up at Mycroft and Nadia's horrified expressions, then turned to Jane. “Not good?”

Jane sighed. “A bit, yeah. Please try to remember that they've lost pregnancies, and they really want this to work.”

Sherlock finished her toast in silence, then got up and tossed the test stick to Mycroft. “Time to read it.”

Mycroft couldn't contain his gasp, and Nadia beamed. “It's positive! You're pregnant!”

Sherlock rolled her eyes. “Congratulations. I'm due at the beginning of February. Jane, am I allowed to start making demands that people have to obey because I'm pregnant?”

She couldn't help but grin. “I dare say you are. What's the first?”

She pointed at her brother and sister-in-law. “You two, out. Keep the test as a souvenir or something, but I don't want to see you until my next doctor visit.”

Mycroft scowled, but they said their goodbyes and left. Sherlock flopped into her chair and pulled her phone out of her dressing gown. “Would it be horrible of me to call Mummy before he does?”

Jane sat across from her and sipped her tea. “Yeah, but not unforgivably so.”

She grinned and dialled. “Hello, Mummy. Yes, I expect Mycroft will be calling any minute. The embryo took, I'm pregnant. You're going to have a grandchild after all.”

 

The first trimester went by without incident, other than one occasion where Jane was afraid she would actually have to physically prevent Sherlock from buying a pack of cigarettes. She didn't suffer from morning sickness, and stuck to her prescribed diet even better than planned. (She seemed completely unaware of the weirdness of her cravings, but where Jane was concerned, any eating was good eating.) She even left the more dangerous aspects of her work to the police, though Jane suspected that was partly because she was tiring more easily. Lestrade gave her an odd look the first time she didn't sprint off after a suspect, and Jane realized that she hadn't told them that she was pregnant. And why would she? It was probably for the best – Anderson and Donovan would have a field day when they found out, and it would be much more fun to make them put all the pieces together themselves and jump to conclusions that Sherlock could then briskly destroy.

 

One sticky July afternoon, during the thirteenth week of the pregnancy, Jane found her standing in her underwear before the full-length mirror, turning slowly side to side.

“What are you doing?”

“I can't tell if I'm showing or not. Since this all started I put on ten pounds so nothing fits right, but I think it's all in my hips and breasts.”

Jane took a moment to admire those particular features as Sherlock turned to get another angle. “When are you going to buy maternity clothes?”

“I'm not going to buy them!” she laughed. “Nadia is. And not until I can't fit into my usual ones.”

“Fine, but you really do need some new bras. That one's overflowing already and you've still got six months to go. It can't be comfortable.”

Sherlock tried to adjust it and sighed. “I hate shopping. Especially for underwear. Too many pointless styles. Nobody sees it anyway.”

“I see it.”

Sherlock finally looked at her, and quickly catalogued her posture, the way her gaze lingered, the dilation of her eyes. “You're aroused.”

“Well, you are barely clothed.”

“It's more than that.” She stepped towards her and ran a hand down her arm, turning it into gooseflesh. “Surprising, since you identified as straight until recently. My body is more feminine now. Me being pregnant is turning you on.”

Jane swallowed. “Apparently so.”

“It's not weird that it's Mycroft's?”

“Only if I think about it,” she snorted. “Which is easy enough to avoid for the time being.” She lifted her hands and trailed her fingers from Sherlock's shoulders to her elbows. “I'm sure your breasts are sore, and this too-small bra isn't helping. May I?”

Sherlock nodded, and Jane reached around to unfasten it with one hand and pull her close with the other. Sherlock set her forehead against Jane's and inhaled deeply. “You smell good.”

“Do I?”

“Like lavender and grass. Also there's a thunderstorm coming.”

Jane kissed her then, and she responded fiercely. Before Jane's brain could catch up, Sherlock had her shirt off, her jeans down to her knees, and she was completely bare and looming over her as she lay on the bed, caressing her breasts with one hand while the fingers of the other played with the elastic on her underwear.

Jane flipped them and kissed all the way down Sherlock's long pale body, and gently nipped the inside of one thigh before turning her attention to Sherlock's vulva. She was already wet, and it wasn't long before she was crying out her release. Jane kept two fingers inside her lover, stroking slowly as she crawled back up. Sherlock grabbed her face and kissed her madly, moaning as smaller shocks continued to ripple through her body. She brought one thigh between Jane's legs, rubbing hard. Distant thunder rumbled and Jane gasped as her own climax took her by surprise. The rain started as they lay panting in the afterglow.

“I'd better go shut the windows,” Jane said, but Sherlock stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Forget the windows, a little rain never hurt.”

“Are you saying you want to cuddle?”

“No.” Sherlock looked at her and smiled. “Maybe.”


	3. Baby Bump

Early September  
Week 18

 

Jane was surprised to find the flat empty when she returned with the grocery shopping, but enjoyed the quiet while she could. Sherlock was getting energetic again, bounding around the flat and crime scenes while she wasn't eating everything she could lay her hands on or shoving Jane onto their bed (or couch or carpet) and ripping her clothes off. She had actually popped half the buttons off Jane's favourite button-down, but she figured it was a fair trade for the sheer quantity of frankly fantastic sex they'd been having.

She suspected that Mycroft and Nadia knew about the sex – they'd very nearly caught them in the act on one of their weekly visits, when Sherlock had been too eager to drag Jane into the bedroom and had started to have her way with her on the couch. They had hastily covered all their bits when they heard Mrs Hudson answer the door, but Sherlock's shirt was buttoned incorrectly and Jane's was inside out. Mycroft had scowled, Nadia had blushed and scowled, and Sherlock had placidly swanned into the kitchen and started making tea without fixing her clothing or hair.

As she put the groceries away, Jane wondered where Sherlock would have gone without telling her, and then remembered her grouchy expression as she had tugged at her clothing that morning in an effort to keep the buttons closed over the baby bump that was finally beginning to become apparent. Expensive tailored clothing could only accommodate so much, and Jane thought she'd even heard her grumbling that her trousers wouldn't fasten. This was her breaking point, then, when she would concede that the pregnancy had taken over her body and allow Nadia to take her shopping.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Sherlock arrived about an hour later, laden with bags from maternity stores. “Did you buy chocolate biscuits?” she called from the bedroom.

“Of course I did,” Jane said. “At the rate you're going, the baby will be born with a gooey chocolate centre.”

“Shut up.”

She chuckled to herself and went back to her novel. A little while later, she heard Sherlock rummaging through the kitchen. “Need help finding anything?”

“I'm fine.” She strode into the sitting room with a slice of bread that was practically dripping with Nutella, but Jane's attention was immediately drawn to her body. She had changed into her new clothes, and although they were very similar in style to what she normally wore, she suddenly looked … well, _pregnant_. The blouse was her favourite shade of deep plum and looked like the sister of the one she had tried to squeeze into that morning. Whereas that one had strained all its buttons, this one was a wrap style that successfully contained her bust and draped delicately over her belly, which looked considerably larger and rounder. Her trousers were basic black, but Jane suspected that they had elastic panels, which made her silhouette much smoother.

“What do you think?”

“You look fantastic.”

“Really?” She turned around slowly, and Jane continued to stare.

“Bloody amazing. It's actually real, isn't it?”

She bit into the bread. “Of course it's real.”

“Well, what I mean is, before it looked like your clothes were too small. Now you look like a pregnant woman.”

“That's good, I suppose, since I am one.”

“How much did you get Nadia to spend on you?”

She grinned. “Loads. I had her get me enough things to last the whole time, if I keep growing as I've projected.”

Jane gestured at her. “I hope you got several of that top. It suits you.”

“Yes, I think so. I wish it didn't have the bow on the back, but it's more versatile that way. Plenty of room to grow, and even if it gets a bit too small, I can wear a dark vest underneath. My biggest disappointment is they didn't have any jackets I liked.”

“You'll have to keep wearing the ones you have, then.”

“They won't close any more.”

Jane shrugged. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

Sherlock dropped into her chair with a sigh. “I'll probably wear them anyway. Nadia convinced me to get some cardigans, though. It's not the same, but it's another layer for when it gets cold. And she got me a coat, though she made me try it with a bunch of pads so she was certain it was big enough. I looked ridiculous.”

Jane had to laugh. “That's pregnancy for you. Before you know it, you'll actually be that big.”

“God, I hope not. I looked like a whale.” She put the last of the bread in her mouth and got up. “Put your shoes on, there's a case.”

They arrived at the scene a short time later, but Jane found herself distracted by the fact that Sherlock had kept her overcoat not only on, but buttoned shut, even though the victim's flat was rather warm. She could see her beginning to flush from the heat as she paced around, which raised a few red flags. She stayed close by Sherlock's side as her face grew more and more pink, and she began sounding short of breath.

So she was prepared when Sherlock trailed off mid-sentence and swooned slightly, grasping for Jane as her eyes fluttered and her knees gave out. Jane caught her easily and lowered her gently to sit on the floor. “Take it easy,” she murmured, opening her coat to cool her off. “You're fine. Just a little overheated.”

Sherlock blinked hard several times. “What just happened?”

“You came over a bit faint. I'm not surprised, it's a normal thing, especially when you're so warm. Why didn't you take your coat off?”

Her face was beginning to return to its usual colour. “I didn't want them to see yet,” she said softly.

Jane realized at that moment that everyone was staring at them – the doctor tending to the pregnant woman, the woman they hadn't known was pregnant until Jane had opened her coat to reveal the belly that was now prominent. “Oh,” she managed.

Sherlock pulled her coat all the way off and got back to her feet with a little steadying from Jane, then glanced at every person in the room before settling her defiant gaze on Lestrade. “See something interesting, Detective Inspector?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before any sound came out. “You're … pregnant?”

“Yes, excellent diagnosis,” she said with contempt. “Eighteen weeks. Due in February.”

Nobody was surprised when Donovan spoke up. “So whose is it? You got some boyfriend Jane doesn't know about? Or did you just pick up some anonymous guy because you and Jane were desperate to have a kid?”

“There were no hookups,” Sherlock said, before Jane could put together the right words for a comeback. “And it isn't mine. I'm acting as a surrogate for my brother and his wife. Any other stupid questions?”

The room was silent as she stared at each of them, then returned her piercing eyes to Donovan. “Sally, fetch me a glass of water, I have just fainted. Jane, remind me what I was saying just now.”

Donovan scurried out of the room. “I don't know, actually,” Jane said. “I was too preoccupied with making sure you didn't hurt yourself when you collapsed.”

Sherlock rolled her eyes. “Can _anyone_ tell me what I was saying before I fainted? I've got pregnancy brain so you'll all have to work extra hard to not be stupid.”


	4. Snowed In

Late January  
39 weeks

 

“Jane?”

She turned away from the sink of dishes and poked her head into the sitting room. “What?”

Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the couch, an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you think you'd be able to deliver the baby here?”

“I suppose so, if I had to. Why?”

“Because there's over two feet of snow in the streets and I think my water just broke.”

The mug in Jane's hands jumped for the floor, but she managed to catch it and set it on the table as she tried not to panic. “Are you having contractions?”

“Yes. They're lasting about a minute and there's five minutes in between.”

“Shit.” Jane sat heavily on a kitchen chair. “And how long has this been going on?”

“Started last night, about the same time as the snow.”

“God, you are _impossible_ , you know that? Why didn't you tell me?”

Sherlock shrugged. “I'm not due for a week, and I thought it was Braxton-Hicks again. I slept through them fine, and they stopped a couple hours ago.”

“But they're back now?”

“Yes, and much stronger. I think I misjudged before, and what I thought was them stopping was actually the transition into active labour.”

“Jesus.” Jane crossed the sitting room and sat on the couch facing her. “How many have you had now?”

“Three, about five minutes apart. I think the last one broke the amniotic sac.”

“While you were sitting here on the couch?”

She reached a hand between her legs and looked down, even though her enormous belly obscured her view. Jane looked and saw that the crotch of her pyjama bottoms was dark with moisture. “It's just a trickle, but I felt a little pop, and it felt like the baby moved lower in my pelvis during the break. With that and the contractions, I think it's coming soon.”

“Jesus,” Jane repeated, running a hand through her hair. “You would do it this way, wouldn't you? No sticking to the plan for Sherlock Holmes.”

“I didn't _make_ the blizzard,” she said with a huff. “Though I am rather pleased that Mycroft won't be here for it.”

Jane had to laugh at that. “Do you suppose he knows? He still has the flat bugged, yeah?”

“Video only,” Sherlock said. “One of my conditions was no audio during the pregnancy, though I trust my brother only as far as I can throw him, and it's been eight weeks since I've been able to check for cameras myself.”

“All the same, do you think we ought to let them know you're in labour? It is their baby.”

Sherlock gave her a slightly wicked smile. “It's been sixteen hours already, let's wait a bit more. I would really prefer to do the difficult bit without them hanging around, anyway.”

Jane smiled back, and squeezed Sherlock's hand as she got up and went to the window. “There's no point in me trying to call an ambulance, is there.”

The couch groaned as Sherlock stood up, and then her belly pressed into Jane's back as she set her chin on the shorter woman's shoulder and wrapped her arms around Jane's waist. “Even if it could get through, I wouldn't leave the flat under my own power.”

Jane turned her head and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek. “Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

She hugged her a little tighter. “It won't.”

“Forgive me if I don't find your confidence reassuring.”

“There's the nervous mummy again,” she chided. “It's not your baby, Jane. It's not mine either, remember? I'm just an incubator, just transport. A healthy uterus. But trust me that I know what my body is doing, and if I need it there will be a helicopter on the roof before you can say _but I haven't finished the washing up_.”

“It's not the baby I'm worried about, it's _you_.” She turned in Sherlock's arms and pressed their foreheads together. “I suppose it's good that you didn't want any pain medication anyway.”

She chuckled. “With my history? I doubt they'd have given it to me. And besides, I want the full experience.”

Since their bellies were pressed together, Jane felt the next contraction begin at the same moment Sherlock sucked in a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. She pulled Jane's hands to the sides of her bulge, and began to rock gently back and forth, balancing herself on Jane's shoulders.

Jane could only watch, awed and yes, a bit frightened, as Sherlock panted through the pain, counting under her breath. She visibly relaxed when she reached fifty-three, and lifted her eyes to Jane's with a slightly bashful expression. “Where shall we do this, then?” 

 

Jane sat on the bed at Sherlock's side. “How are you feeling?”

“Like punching Mycroft in his smug fucking face.” Sherlock sighed deeply as the tension slowly left her body. “Why the hell did I agree to this.”

Jane's smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “All the favours money can't buy?”

A smile crept onto her lips. “He's going to owe me for the rest of his life.”

“I'm only concerned you'll come up with something so big, he'll say you've used them all up.”

“I doubt that. Have you _seen_ Nadia when she's around me? She would have done anything to be able to carry it herself. She's so jealous I can hardly stand her.”

“You can't stand her anyway,” Jane corrected.

“Fine, but you know what I mean. They both want this so much, and I didn't even make them pay me.”

“I still think you should have.”

She shook her head. “Favours are far more valuable, Jane, especially when it's my brother granting them. And it's not like I need the money.”

“What happened to 'pity, we could have split the fee'?”

She waved a hand dismissively. “That was years ago, Jane. Time moves on and different clauses in my inheritance come and go.”

“Your _inheritance_?”

“That's right, I haven't told you, have I? From Father. Old bastard actually did something worthwhile when he set up his estate. When I turned thirty-five last year my portion switched from an allowance to full access.”

Jane's mouth fell open. “How much money are we talking about?”

“The number hardly matters. Suffice it to say, I'll never actually have to work, unless my lifestyle changes dramatically.”

Jane reeled, and was working on a witty retort when Sherlock grabbed her hand and moaned as another strong contraction seized her. Jane could feel her knuckles grinding together and worried briefly about the cartilage, but forced herself to pay attention to her friend instead.

_Friend_. Was this what friends did? Only very good friends, certainly. Or maybe not. Jane was a doctor, after all, and doctors delivered strangers' babies all the time. Doctors didn't regularly snog and shag strangers, though.

Sherlock's death grip on her hand relaxed, and she stretched her fingers as Sherlock brought her respiration back to normal.

“What are we?” Jane blurted.

Sherlock gave her an odd look. “What do you mean?”

It was too late to go back. “Our relationship. What are we to each other? We stopped being just friends a year ago, but are we … am I your girlfriend? Are we partners? Friends with really weird benefits?”

Sherlock put both hands on her face. “Can we please not do this _right now_?”

“I'm sorry, it's just--”

“Really, Jane, _please_ don't do this right now.”

“Right, okay. Sorry.”

Sherlock sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, which was becoming damp with sweat. “We love each other. You're my Jane and I'm your Sherlock. We don't need labels beyond that.”

Jane couldn't help the grin that took over her face. “I think the pregnancy's going to your head,” she teased. “Where's the prickly Sherlock Holmes I used to know?”

Sherlock grinned back and swatted Jane's arm. “She'll be back as soon as I squeeze out Mycroft's precious little miracle.”

“Thank god for that. I don't know how much more of this touchy-feely crap I can stand.”

They both giggled, and Sherlock hefted herself into a sitting position. “Could you bring me a glass of water?”

“Sure. Anything else? Something to eat?”

“No, I'm fine. I had some breakfast earlier, that'll be enough as long as this doesn't drag on too long.”

Jane nodded and went into the kitchen, and heard Sherlock's phone buzz on the table. She picked it up – a text from Mycroft.

_You put the damned thing on silent as soon as you started having contractions, didn't you.  
M_

Jane chuckled and looked through the previous messages as she went back into the bedroom.

Sherlock accepted the glass and took a sip “What's so funny?”

“Mycroft has been texting you every three minutes for the last hour.”

“Bastard.” She took the phone, scrolled through the messages – most of which were just variations on _Sherlock, please answer_ or _Is everything all right, I can't see you clearly_ – and typed a response.

_I deliberately obscured the camera in the bedroom, brother dear; a girl needs some privacy. Fear not, Doctor Watson is in attendance.  
SH_

“How much can he see, exactly?” Jane asked.

Sherlock pointed to the scarf draped over the top of the wardrobe. “In here, just the window, and then only really light and dark through the fabric. I didn't bother with the camera in the sitting room.”

They both watched the phone, and after a minute it buzzed with another text.

_You can't do this, you have no legal rights to the child.  
M_

Sherlock rolled her eyes.

_I'm not interested in your child, and you have no rights to my body. Jane will call when your baby arrives and after that you can come by whenever the roads get cleared.  
SH_

As soon as the message had sent, she powered the phone off and tossed it carelessly on the bedside table. “He'll probably start texting you now.”

“Can't blame him,” Jane said, though she did pull her phone out and set it to silent.

Sherlock arranged the pillows behind her back, and leaned forward with a grimace when the next contraction came. Jane rubbed her back gently and watched the clock – this contraction lasted a full minute and a half, and Sherlock panted loudly through the whole thing. When it was over, she gave Jane a pleading look. “I really want to push.”

“Humour me, please? The longer you can hold off, the less likely it is you'll have complications.”

She didn't say anything, but two minutes later she was groaning again, the only noise in the otherwise silent flat. Even London was quiet, covered in its blanket of snow that grew deeper with each passing minute.

Jane continued to rub her back as she endured several more, each contraction lasting nearly as long as the rest in between. Finally Sherlock leaned back, pushing the sweaty hair off her forehead. Her voice was a breathless whimper. “Jane?”

“Let me just have a look.” She pushed the hem of her friend's shirt up over her belly, and Sherlock struggled to draw her legs back, gripping her thighs.

“Jesus, you're practically crowning already.”

Sherlock glared as angrily as she could manage. “I could have told you that, if you'd listened.”

Jane gave an apologetic shrug. “Can't be too careful.”

Sherlock sighed and closed her eyes. “Suppose not.” She breathed deeply while Jane ran a hand gently over her belly, until the next contraction started.

“Push now,” Jane said, though Sherlock hardly needed prompting, and she bore down.

“Great job,” Jane said when she relaxed again. “You're getting so close.”

Several more contractions came and went. Sherlock pushed mightily through all of them, and made steady progress, slow as it was. Finally she made a pained sound at the height of one contraction. “You're almost there,” Jane said as she continued to push. “Just a tiny bit more.”

“How close?” she gasped, as the contraction ended.

“Just one more strong push, I think,” Jane said. “You're almost there.”

She rested for the minute her body gave her, and then curled up and pushed with everything she had left.

“Here it comes!” Jane couldn't have looked away if she wanted to. “Push, push ...”

Sherlock groaned; the skin slowly stretched, more and more and more, and then the head moved down and Jane gently slipped the edge over the emerging features. “That's it, keep pushing, fantastic,” she breathed, freeing an ear, a nose, another ear, and finally, “The head is out!” She wiped the tiny face with a towel, trying to clear the airways.

Sherlock moaned as she continued to push. Jane freed the shoulders, and Sherlock whimpered and went limp as the rest of the baby emerged.

The tiny thing in Jane's hands coughed, then opened its mouth and let out a feeble cry. She looked up at Sherlock, who looked as tired as she'd ever seen her, but her eyes were bright with interest. “Boy or girl?”

Jane beamed as she wrapped the child in a clean towel before placing it in Sherlock's extended arms. “You're an auntie.”

Sherlock rolled her eyes. “Ooh, clever.” She laid the baby on her belly and opened the blanket. “Looks like I have a nephew. They'll be calling you Sherrinford, then. What a perfectly atrocious name.”

Jane cleaned him with a damp cloth, then watched fondly as Sherlock cuddled the baby – a sight she had been sure she would never see. She snapped a quick photo in which Sherlock was wearing a genuine, blissed-out smile, and a few minutes later helped her with the afterbirth before venturing out into the flat to find something with which to improvise a clamp and cut the cord.

“You should probably ring Mycroft now,” Sherlock said. “If he hasn't had a stroke yet.”

Jane pulled off her gloves and took her phone out of her pocket, and sure enough, there were four missed calls and seven text messages. “It wasn't even that long,” she said. “You only pushed for about twenty minutes.”

“Time is relative,” Sherlock said as she freed a breast from her shirt. “It felt like ages to me, and it was probably nothing to little Ford. Call my brother while I see if I can get him to eat.”

“I thought you weren't going to breast feed. Not actually your baby, and all.”

“We don't really have a choice, do we?” She guided a nipple to the baby's mouth. “There's no formula here, and my breasts have been leaking for a week. Might as well try what nature intended. I promise I won't get attached.”

Jane felt a little awkward watching her attempt to feed the baby – she was all but completely naked, still lying on the bloody towels – so she went out to the sitting room.

“Yes – yes, Mycroft, relax, everything was fine. Perfect, really. Congratulations, by the way, you have a son. He's big and strong, and eating his first meal right now. I'll send you a photo as soon as I can.”


	5. Epilogue

Mycroft and Nadia arrived just a few hours later, though Jane wasn't entirely sure how they had managed it – the snow was over a foot deep, and well on its way to two. With Jane's help, Sherlock had taken a hot shower and was back in bed, dozing with Sherrinford on her chest. She woke enough to wish the new parents a halfhearted congratulations before she dropped off again, and Jane shooed the family out of the bedroom before changing into lounge clothes and climbing into bed herself, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. It had been a very long day, and the January sun was getting low in the sky.

Sherlock sighed as Jane cuddled up beside her. “Thank you, Jane.”

“What for?”

“Everything,” she said dreamily. “Helping me push. Catching the baby. Dealing with Mycroft.”

“Thank _you_ for being so agreeable,” Jane said. “It could have been really unpleasant.”

“Oh, it was fascinating. And far better you than some team of doctors I don't know.” Sherlock turned her head and kissed her sweetly. “You are remarkable, Jane Watson.”

Jane kissed her back. “I love you, too.”


End file.
